Counting
by Dardanelle
Summary: It doesn't happen at a convenient time because life is nothing like the stories. Not even for them who travel to the foreign country known as the past. It takes them both by surprise. But is it that surprising? Have they not been gravitating towards each other since the Hindenburg?
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this two-part fic during the roller-coaster of the last couple of weeks. Best timing ever to write your first FF for a show, just before a renewal or cancellation announcement... ;-) I'd written two thirds when the cancellation news hit. But then we had the best news – uncanceled! I did the virtual equivalent of pulling out a scrunched up stack of papers from the bin smoothed out the wrinkles and wrote the last third.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to show (If I did we would not have had this whole cancel - uncancel business!)

* * *

Real life is nothing like the stories. Not even for them who travel to the foreign country known as the past.

So of course it doesn't happen at a convenient time. It's not because things are resolved. Emma is still one step ahead of them, Lucy hasn't seen her mother for weeks, there is no Amy, and Jessica's death remains a mystery. Life is still messy.

It takes them both by surprise. But is it that surprising? Have they not been gravitating towards each other since the Hindenburg?

There is no harrowing trip to the past, no drinks between colleagues or anything else they can use as an excuse or a reason.

It happens when they are stone cold sober in broad daylight on Wyatt's couch. Maybe it's inevitable. Maybe this is where they were heading all along.

Then it happens again. She means to leave his bed just as she left his couch by following the trail of her clothes pulling them on all the way to the frontdoor.

That first time she doesn't notice she is wearing his t-shirt until she comes home. She has not returned it. Two days later she finds the top she was wearing washed and neatly folded in her locker at work. She is oddly touched. Wyatt hasn't said anything. But then they haven't talked about it. What happened. Which doesn't exactly open up for conversations like "Thanks for washing my top" or "Did you take my t-shirt?" (He must know she has his t-shirt she realizes. She pictures him in his jeans picking up her pale pink top from the floor. And come on, of course she pictures his bare chest. It is even more difficult not to now that she knows what it feels like under her hands.) She also pictures Rufus face if they had had a conversation like that the next time they have to face each other again, buckling up in the the lifeboat.

But the second time she doesn't leave. One second they are lying side by side their breaths short and a sheen of sweat on their bodies. The next second he reaches for her and holds her close with such tenderness it almost floors her. How can she make herself leave when his hand runs down her hair and his lips are as light as a feather on her skin carefully avoiding the sore spot from where she fell 103 years ago?

A call from Mason Industries saves them from an awkward morning after. Or a less awkward morning after than it could have been. "Pull yourself together," she tells her face in the bathroom mirror after being oddly touched again by Wyatt handing her a toothbrush with the words "You might as well keep this here," before quickly ducking out of the room. Must be hormones rushing around she decides. Going mushy because someone washes a piece of your clothing and gives you a toothbrush is an exaggerated reaction. It is definitely hormones released by them sleeping together she repeats when putting her toothbrush next to his makes her insides flutter. (Can she help that he only has one toothbrush mug?)

She does not leave the third time either. (She allows herself to wonder if it will happen so many times she'll lose count.) Trekking back to the lifeboat through the woods at night in the 1800s is exhausting. Especially if you take the wrong turn a couple of times because it's pitch black. She is woken by the pillow shifting under her cheek. She peers at the glowing numbers on the alarm clock, 04.12. Her pillow, or that is Wyatt, shifts again and mumbles. She catches Rufus, No and Lucy as his mumbling grows.

"It's okay, I'm here, it's a dream," she says her hand gently cradling the side of his head. "It's just a dream."

He blinks at her. "Lucy?"

"I'm here. Go back to sleep. Everyone's safe." She runs her fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out. How can she leave when she said she would be here?

Lucy wakes up with an aching throat and turns her actual pillow over to cool her warm face. She dozes off until Wyatt putting a mug of coffee on the bedside table wakes her up again.

"Agent Christopher just called me. She's probably calling you right now," he says. (Should she be relieved or disappointed that work, or more specifically Emma, seems to have a sixth sense for cutting their mornings after short?)

As if on cue her cell starts to buzz. Wyatt gazes at her over the rim of his mug when she hangs up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired," she says and ignores how her eyes feel like they have sand in them. "I need to stop by my place and change clothes."

"You think anyone would notice if you wore the same things as yesterday?"

"Yes!"

"You could wear one of my t-shirts," he smirks.

She takes a long sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. (But she's still not returning his t-shirt.)

"Or we could just announce at the briefing that we're sleeping together."

Oh god, should she have said that? Does it sound like she assumes they are now something established. That three times mean this is a regular occurrence?

But Wyatt seems oblivious. "I can't remember what Rufus wore yesterday and I doubt he remembers what we wore. I don't."

"Jiya would notice. And you could check the floor for a reminder. And the lamp over there in the corner... is that my bra?"

"Want to pick up breakfast on the way?" Wyatt asks over the roof of his car.

"No time. I'll see you at Mason's," Lucy replies and takes her car keys out.

"You know, if you kept a few things at my place it would save some time when we get called in. If you're here I mean. When they call. Maybe I should have a few things at your place too. If we're there. Not that I'm..." Wyatt drags a hand across the back of his neck. "I'll see you you at work."

Maybe she's not the only one who worries about sounding like she assumes too much, Lucy thinks as she drives to her new place.

* * *

The bagel lands on the table in front of her in the briefing room.

"Could you be more obvious?" she hisses when they are on their way to change and Rufus has disappeared into the wardrobe area ahead of them.

"Because I brought you a bagel?! I think we're safe. I brought Rufus coffee last week and no one gave me a lecture on fraternization rules and Jiya didn't act jealous."

He stops her with a hand on her arm.

"Lucy, I'm..." Wyatt looks at everything but her before he tries again. "I'm sorry I woke you up. In the middle of the night, I mean."

She wants to reach out and smooth the tension from his face, but that is not what they do so instead she settles for reaching out to adjust his collar.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

They are both unaware of how Jiya, who has come to check if Lucy needs any help, raises her eyebrows at Rufus who rolls his eyes.

Fortunately Emma makes a short trip this time and there are no French field surgeons insisting on questionable treatments or anyone tying them up. Lucy's throat is really sore and her body is aching by the time they are making their way back to the lifeboat.

"You sure you're okay?" Wyatt asks when she stumbles. She has felt his watchful eyes on her the whole trip and not in the same way he looked at her legs when she got out of bed this morning.

"Nothing some NyQuil and tea won't cure."

For once she is grateful to sit down in the lifeboat. She has closed her eyes and drifted away before Wyatt has reached over to tighten her harness.

The nausea from the jump and a cold is a terrible combination. Somehow she makes it through the debrief before she is finally free to go and change and go home. Just a minute she promises herself when she has wrestled out of the corset and everything else women were made to wear a century ago and dressed in her own clothes. The bench has no back support so she rests her elbows on her knees and her forehead in her hands. Maybe she can stay like this until the next time they have to chase after Emma. It would save her the effort of getting up.

Someone is hitting her head. Or hitting something near her. Is someone knocking on a door?

"Hey, Lucy, you in there? Lucy?"

"Yes, she croaks."

Thankfully her answer makes the noise stop.

"Okay, up you go," Wyatt's voice is next to her ear this time. He's had coffee she notes idly as his breath ghosts her cheek before he shifts his hold on her and places an arm firmly around her shoulders to pull her with him along the corridor to the exit.

"I got some cold medicine from the doc. You have tea and honey at your place?"

"Mhm. My car's over on the other side," she adds when Wyatt turns left in the parking lot.

"I'm on this side and I'm driving you home."

She's too tired to protest or mind that he almost lifts her up into his jeep. But when he opens his door outside her building and starts to get out she does.

"Wyatt, I'm not... I'm too tired too..." Great, she's a grown woman who sleeps with her colleague but she is too embarrassed to actually say it out loud.

Wyatt freezes. "Do you think that's why I drove you home? Lucy, you zoned out in the locker room. I waited for you in the corridor outside for over twenty minutes."

This is not what we do, she's about to say. But apparently it is, because before she's had a chance to point this out he has helped her out of his car as she mutters that his car is too high, that it's almost like crawling out of the lifeboat.

"I'll give you a free pass on critiquing my wheels as you're burning up and have a voice like Yoda."

"Why don't you go and lie down while I make some tea," Wyatt continues when there are inside her apartment.

The first wave of nausea hits her when she bends down to unlace her shoes. She makes it to the bathroom just in time and by the time she has emptied her stomach and is leaning back wiping a shaking hand over her mouth Wyatt has turned up with the tea.

"I should have known, you're about as green as Yoda is too," he says and grabs a flannel and holds it under the tap. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he kneels down next to her and wipes her face. When she pushes him aside to stick her head in the toilet again he runs a hand in gentle circles on her back.

"How did we end up like this?" she thinks as she leans back again. She feels both relaxed and uncomfortable with him here. She doesn't want him to see her like this but at the same time she wants him to stay. They have been in situations where they have been much more vulnerable and exposed than this. But it has always been in their professional roles, in a faraway past. Now they are just Lucy and Wyatt and they are... What are they to each other?

She draws a shaky breath to collect herself and winces at how the tiled walls amplifies the sound making her sound as pitiful as she feels.

Wyatt lifts her hair to place the cool flannel on the nape of her neck.

She lets herself turn her head to rest her forehead against his shoulder. This time it really will be for only a minute she tells herself. But when she begins to move he stills her with an arm around her and leans his cheek against her head.

"Probably best if you don't move for a while to let your stomach settle or you might end up with your head in the toilet a third time."

Lucy blames the virus for not admitting to him that she doesn't feel as if she's about to throw up again and for leaning into him further and letting herself enjoy being held.

Though eventually, when the bathroom floor makes her knees ache, she does move. She manages to toe off her shoes (she's learned her lesson about leaning over to untie shoelaces) before sinking into her bed.

"Oh no you don't, ma'am."

Somehow it feels more intimate when he helps her undress and put on a pajamas than when he's pulled off her clothes when they fall into bed.

His fingers gently cover a red mark on the skin over her ribcage and her breath almost catches at his touch.

"What happened?"

"A corset."

"Ouch. I thought the costumes I have to wear were bad."

"I'll be fine, you can leave if you want to," Lucy makes herself say when Wyatt tucks the duvet around her."

"I'll stay. You might need something."

"You should take the couch. You could catch whatever it is I have."

"That's okay. I think it's too late to be careful now anyway."

Yes it's too late to be careful, she thinks and turns to hide her face and the treacherous tears in her pillow. The lines are all blurred between what they have been, whatever they are and the now.

It's not as if she gave situations like this one any thought when her eyes were caught in his for a moment too long and lips and hands followed and they ended up in a tangle of arms and legs and sighs on his couch.

And the annoying, smirking person she found half-asleep, half-drunk at Mason Industries on one of the most confusing, fateful days of her life lies down next to her and tells her it's just the cold, that it will be okay again soon, in a voice that is almost as gentle as his embrace.

TBC

The second (and last) part will be up in the next few days


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for reading the first part and a special thank you to the lovely people who took the time to let me know what they think. Here is the second part as promised.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the show

* * *

For the next few days her world shrinks to her bedroom and bathroom. Time is reduced to random numbers that do not matter on her phone display. Tea, Kleenex, glasses of water, and half the cold & flu range of a drug store appear on her bedside table.

Sometimes Lucy wakes to find Wyatt asleep next to her in the bed. She listens to his breaths and allows herself to caress his face or smooth down his hair. Who's to know?

She wakes up and is hungry for the first time in a long while. The other side of the bed is empty and it's quiet. It's funny how you can sense when there is no one in a place but you, she thinks pulling on a robe and stepping into the kitchen. She fills up the kettle and looks in the cabinets and fridge for something to eat.

It's not as if she has a right to expect Wyatt to be at her place, yet she can feel her stomach flip and a smile pull at her face before a sense of calm comes over her when she hears the frontdoor open and his voice follows.

"Yeah, you won't find much in there. Your kitchen is even emptier than mine. You live on air?" Wyatt says as he dumps two grocery bags on the kitchen table.

"I'm a terrible cook."

"Good thing that only makes one of us. Why don't you sit down. Not to be rude, but you still look like death warmed over."

"Thanks a lot." But she is relieved to sit down at the kitchen table and watch as he unpacks the bags and tell him where things go. She makes a face when he pulls out a box of cereal.

"They're for me. See, I got that weird, tasteless kind you eat too. And decaf though I don't get the point of it. Coffee is for waking up and staying awake." (He finishes his cereal so the next time she gets groceries she buys another box along with more regular coffee.)

"And now I'll make you what grandpa Sherman made me for breakfast when I was sick," he says and gets a pan out.

Somewhere between the times she ends up in Wyatt's bed and he in her bed (she hasn't lost count yet) she realizes she wants Amy to meet Wyatt. The Wyatt who makes omelets, isn't phased when you throw up and who sings out of tune. It becomes part of the strange grieving for Amy.

She knows Amy would have called her out on whatever it is that she and Wyatt are doing. Amy wouldn't have settled for some half-assed answer or thin excuse. What would Lucy have answered her sister? Would it have made her brave enough to ask Wyatt?

She could have talked to Amy. Asked her if she had any clue to what Wyatt is thinking. What she should do. And Amy would have answered that she is not a mind reader and why doesn't Lucy do the obvious thing and ask Wyatt?

* * *

Another day, another time jump. Lucy wonders what is worse, corsets or the synthetic fabrics of the 1970s that make you sweat from just walking, and peels off a blouse with a pattern so loud it must have the ability to cause migraines.

"Where's Rufus?" she asks Wyatt and looks down the corridor outside the locker rooms.

"He'll meet us there."

Perfect. They can spend some time not talking about the one thing they should talk about. Emma getting away once again is a thin excuse but Lucy is not above using it. If you can't use time travel or changing history as an excuse, what can you use to avoid dealing with your own mess?

They find a vacant booth and order their drinks. Before they've had to think of something to say they're saved by the bell.

Wyatt puts down his phone. "Rufus doesn't know what time he'll get here. Something with some servers and... yeah, I didn't get most of it, but it'll keep him busy for a while."

There is a couple a few tables down from theirs in the bar. Lucy tries to ignore them. Tries not to watch how they lean into each other, the hand running down an arm, their fingers lacing. How they

do it without seeming aware of it while talking to the other people at their table. She pulls here gaze away and it lands on their table.

Wyatt's hand is next to hers. She imagines turning his palm up to lace her fingers with his. Just like that. But it is one of the many things they don't do. In her bed yesterday morning, yes, but not in a bar. And suddenly, because she knows what it feels like to run her hands down his bare back, the dip of his spine under her fingertips but doesn't know what it would be like to lean into him and put her head on his shoulder in a booth in a bar, she can't stand sitting next to him like this.

"Excuse me," she says and stands up and moves to the restrooms. (The bar is busy slowing her pace down from a panicked flight to an almost normal stride.)

Of course there's a queue to the toilet cubicles in the ladies' so she settles for leaning against the wall in the corridor outside the restrooms, taking a deep breath while telling herself to "get a grip" and willing the burning in her nose and under her eyelids to stop.

Turns out she doesn't get a grip fast enough.

"Hey, what happened?" Wyatt angles his head searching her face. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing," she looks down to avoid his questioning eyes. That's the problem. What stops her from straightening up and slipping into his arms. He is standing so close she'd barely need to move.

"I need to go home," she says. It is the truth even if she doesn't tell him why.

"You should stay and wait for Rufus," she suggests as he helps her with her coat.

"I'll call him," Wyatt replies as he shrugs into his own coat.

She can feel his gaze on her the whole way home. When she ventures a look in his direction he has a focused look on his face as if he is trying to work her out like a riddle or a jigsaw puzzle. She quells her instinct to reach out and smooth the furrows from his forehead.

They stop outside her building. This is when they would have kissed goodnight had they been a couple. But since they're not they exchange phrases like "See you at work" and "Take care" and "Goodnight."

* * *

Eight minutes past two in the morning she realizes what she has to do. For both of them. But how do you break up with someone when you are not a couple?

"We have to stop this. It's not healthy what we're doing," she rehearses in her dark bedroom.

But she stays at home cleaning and doing laundry the next day. She wears his t-shirt. (Confession: she hasn't washed it because it still smells like him.) This is what you do when you're a coward.

She wills her phone not to ring to call her into work and into the past. It seems to be working. It also seems to be working to keep Wyatt away. Again she can't decide if she's relieved or disappointed.

Her fridge and kitchen cabinets are almost empty again. She shakes "his" cereal box and stills. Lucy is amazed at how dense she has been. She has failed students who don't see connections and don't draw conclusions in an assignment. Now it is she who has failed spectacularly with connections and conclusions.

She pieces together a toothbrush, a neatly folded top, a suggestion she keep some things at his place, his brand cereal in her kitchen cabinet, his gentle embrace, how she wants Amy to meet Wyatt and a million other details. A picture emerges clear for her, for anyone, to see. What they are to each other. That they are two people who slept together before they were brave enough to admit that they love each other. But that they have been telling each other ever since through their actions.

She decides to be brave. She snatches her things without checking if she has everything (a wallet and one glove or two do not seem important right now) and almost runs to her car.

He is not at home. Because this is real life and not a story.

* * *

Think, where could he be? Half a dozen places she wouldn't know about so she goes to the one she does know. She asks anyone she meets at Mason's Industries if they have seen Wyatt not caring what they think. This is her being brave.

She is out of breath when she reaches the floor he is on. (Who has time to wait for a lift situations like these?)

"I only ever do this when you're asleep," she says in response to the question on his face and runs her fingers down his cheek. "And you can bring me bagels every morning if you want to."

He looks at her with that mix of wonder and surprise she first saw 83 years ago in a cabin in Arkansas. And then he smiles. If she was not already in love with him she would fall in love with him now.

"Well in that case," he says and grabs his jackets and her hand.

"Where are we going?" she asks after three blocks.

"Does it matter?" he asks her back. "I just want to check something."

"What?"

"Sometimes when you think I'm asleep I wonder what it would be like to walk down the street with you like this. Like we belong together."

The part of her that decided to be brave makes her pull on his hand to make him stop. "We do."

"I mean as in going to a bar together and I'd do this," he says and drops a kiss on her lips.

"So do I."

"Okay then," Wyatt says and reaches for her other hand too.

"Okay."

"Now what?" he asks where they are standing on a street corner making people step around them.

"Now," Lucy smiles, "we ask Rufus and Jiya if they want to go for a drink. Know of any good bars around here?"

* * *

Rufus looks from their faces to their laced hands and back again when Lucy and Wyatt approach the table. Beer sloshes out of his glass when he sets it down with a thump.

"It's happening, isn't it?"

Jiya rolls her eyes at Rufus and laughs. "Told you, didn't I?"

"She got this idea into her head on a day when you barely looked at each other. Or spoke," Rufus says when Lucy and Wyatt sit down opposite their friends.

"Exactly," Jiya nods. "You wouldn't look at each other when you arrived at Mason's but you weren't fighting. A dead giveaway. And then, that day when you Lucy seemed annoyed at Wyatt for giving you a bagel, I knew for sure it had happened."

"Told you," Lucy quips and drops a kiss on Wyatt's lips.

* * *

FIN... Or maybe not. As I told one of the lovely reviewers, a sentence turned up in my head and it won't go away. (Even more annoying than when a piece of music you've heard and don't particularly like gets stuck on repeat in your head!) Then a couple of scenes followed from that sentence...

Usually persistent things like this go away if I write them down, so I'll try that and see what happens. It might turn into something that would work as a third part. If it doesn't - The End, they lived happily ever after (I'll update with a "Complete" if it doesn't work)

I had fun writing this, hope you enjoyed reading it.


	3. Chapter 3

I hereby crown myself Queen of impeccable timing. Not. Turns out going away to a place with patchy to no internet connection and no laptop followed by busy times in RL is not ideal for writing fic... Who would have guessed ;)

We're stepping back in time a bit from the end of chapter 2 and everything is not in chronological order – What's a little time jumping between Timeless friends & fans?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the show.

* * *

Wyatt glances out the window. (Admitting he's the one who should have remembered to draw the blinds as the owner of the blinds was burning up with a fever.) The next day is barely a gray tinge in the dark skies.

He's almost asleep when he feels the soft whisper of her fingers running through his hair and down his face and come to a rest against his cheek. For a few moments he feels lighter, it's easier to breathe. He wonders if this is how some people live their lives. With no darkness running through it.

This is when he should rise from the bed and tuck her in. Who is this person who is grateful Lucy is too sick to see through his transparent excuse - "You might need something" - as if she couldn't get herself a glass of water? Who pretends to be asleep to keep her hand against his face.

He knows the person who doesn't hesitate to help people who are throwing up. A dead-beat father who drank and R&R with his army buddies saw to that. But the rest, not so much.

Maybe he shouldn't have had all that coffee after the briefing he thinks when Lucy has burrowed into his side and is fast asleep again. But he was going for "I'm just going to have some coffee before I leave and it's not because I'm waiting around to check on Lucy."

* * *

He tries for look of nonchalance where he is waiting outside the women's locker room when Jiya walks by for a second time. Is that a friendly smile or a look of amusement on Jiya's face when she disappears down the corridor? Should he return to the breakroom for more coffee or get some more flu & cold stuff from the infirmary?

The absurd feeling of being back in a high school disappears when his watch confirms he's been waiting in the corridor for Lucy to appear for over twenty minutes. "Come on, you've been trained to enter rooms without knowing exactly what to expect," he tells himself when his knock on the door is answered with something unintelligible.

Lucy must be sicker than he thought. She doesn't move when Wyatt walks into the locker room. He breathes a sigh of relief when she stands up with his help. He almost smiles to himself when he wonders what her reaction would have been if he'd had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out like that.

He doesn't dwell on the fact that he unbuttoned her exact same shirt the second time they slept together. At least not more than a few seconds. But he can't help wondering if she is keeping count too. No, she is not that sentimental he decides and next he has to stop himself from kissing a red mark she tells him is from corset. He is not a person who kisses things to make them better.

It's strange how helping someone change into a pair of pajamas can be such a minefield.

The minefield-, the walking on eggshells-, the whatever feeling continues the next day. Oh, who is he trying to kid, it's been there since they ended up on his couch.

* * *

Or maybe it has been longer than that. Rufus, Lucy and he all prefer to sleep in their 21st century beds but time travel isn't a nine to five job and the hours of the day don't align. But no matter how lumpy their beds (if they're lucky enough to find beds for the night) or cramped the conditions he has one favorite part when they have to stay over in the past. The unguarded face Lucy wears when she wakes up in the morning. She often smiles at him then. He feels his face mirror hers, unable to stop it even if he wanted to. Sometimes it goes on long enough for Rufus to clear his throat or say something like "Whenever you're ready." Most times it's just a fleeting moment. But he carries her smile with him. It must show when he remembers because Rufus will tease him.

"What are you grinning at? You drunk again?"

"Excuse me for not expecting Homeland to knock on my door and ask me to travel back in time. Should have seen that one coming."

Okay, so he wasn't exactly sober that first time they stepped into the Lifeboat. Rufus and Lucy never tire of reminding him of it. He recognizes it for what it is, banter between friends. Their team set-up is light years away from his old unit and so is what they do, but somewhere along the way he began thinking of Lucy and Rufus as his new unit. Admittedly he never felt about any other team members they way he feels about Lucy. The thought makes him falter and he can feel his smile fade.

Suddenly he wants nothing more than to tell Rufus, ask him what he should do. How does he fix this mess? Is he crazy?

He imagines telling Rufus "I slept with Lucy. Several times," and how Rufus would react by saying "I'm happy for you" or "It happened!" and he, Wyatt, would have to say "No, it's not like that. We're not together." And that would make him sound like a first class dick. But how could he explain it? That he hasn't got a clue to what they are doing. That he can't help himself. That he's afraid that if he says it has to stop, this falling into bed together without anything resolved between them, he'd lose her. He'll take what he can get.

Soldiers like him don't end up with university professors like her.

And where did that come from? The same place the thought so forbidden he barely dares think it? What would Jess have thought about Lucy? Would she have liked her? Yes, he is crazy.

* * *

He ignores the voice in his head that asks what he thinks he is doing when he slips into bed next to Lucy at night instead of going back to his own place. If she didn't want him here she wouldn't turn to him, put her head in the hollow between his shoulder and chin, yawn and mumble something he can't make out, right?

He realizes he has become familiar with the brands and type of food she favors when he pushes the shopping cart down the aisles. They, Lucy he corrects himself, is out of milk and automatically he reaches for the kind she uses in her coffee. As he makes his way down the aisle with toiletries he picks up toothpaste and thinks it's good that she doesn't need any Tampax as it would be a bit weird for him to be buying that for her, right? But then he registers it's a little weird that he knows the contents of her bathroom cabinets (even if it's because he was looking for a toothbrush for himself.)

He hesitates by the bread. Is the kind she had something she buys regularly? Should he call her? He shakes his head as he picks a loaf. Calling her to ask "I'm at the grocery store what bread should I get?" He can almost hear the echo of honey at the end of that question. It would be too... Would she think that he... He shuts down that line of thought and almost marches to the checkout.

As bad as he feels for her when he returns from grocery shopping, to find her pale with red spots on her cheeks, lank hair and coughing in her kitchen he is oddly relieved in a way. She is too sick to go shopping herself, she needs his help.

He makes Lucy grandpa Sherwin's omelet and chooses to ignore any thoughts of what his grandfather would have said had he seen how Wyatt switches off the TV and gently lifts Lucy up and carries to bed to tuck her in instead of waking her when he finds her asleep on the couch after lunch.

* * *

His place takes on a new kind of emptiness when Lucy is not there. He almost goes as far as wishing he would have picked up that cold from her just so she would be around.

He tells himself he is pathetic when he almost feels happy when Rufus has to stay on at work before joining them for a drink after their latest jump. "It's not a date you moron," he reminds himself. "It's not a date," he repeats when they arrive at the bar and he helps Lucy with her coat and when she sits down next to him instead of opposite him in the booth. They are two colleagues having a drink waiting for their third colleague.

And then they are not waiting for Rufus and can he blame a few sips of alcohol for his brain not letting go of the d-word? Everywhere he looks there seem to be people on a date, couples. Is that what Lucy and he look like to the people around them?

Maybe it's a little like a date because suddenly Lucy rushes from the table as if he has said something to upset her. That's the kind of thing that is more likely to happen on a date than at an after work drink, right? But he's hardly said anything. Neither has she.

When did he become able to read her when she doesn't speak? At least well enough to know something is wrong.

After a sip, followed by checking his cell phone for messages and another sip he admits it's time to advance from hanging around outside women's locker rooms to hanging around outside women's restrooms. Great, he's turning into sleazy pervert.

His brief relief at seeing Lucy outside the restroom quickly melts away when she won't even meet his eyes. He knows that stunt, he pulled it himself outside Mason's wardrobe area not that long ago.

One small step and she would be in his arms. They used to hug, hold each other even, before this craziness started. He settles for a hand at the small of her back on their way back to the table and helping her with her coat.

"Keep your mouth shut," he keeps telling himself on the way back to her place. "You might end up saying something she's not ready to hear. Something like "Can I hold your hand?"" How twisted is that, that he knows the shape of the birthmark on the inside of her left thigh and the sounds she makes in bed but he has never walked down the street holding her hand? (When she thinks he's asleep he allows himself questions like that. He blames her fingertips tracing the planes of his face and her lips so soft against his temples he's almost sure he's dreaming it.)

"What do you want me to do?" he keeps asking her in his head. Her face doesn't give him a clue, no matter how often he sneaks a look at her.

Outside her door he shoulders the heaviness of all the things he hasn't told her and tries to smile. At a loss of what to do he almost shakes her hand when they part. Pathetic.

What's next, a pity party? Not that he'd ever admit it (he's been been trained to withstand interview techniques with a side of torture) but he knows the next stage involves ice-cream, films with big feelings and and talking to friends. Or is that only for women? He's a big boy from Texas, bourbon will work too if B&J Phish Food is frowned upon.

Sometimes he can't keep apart "this is what women do" vs "this is what men do" from "this is what people in the service do" vs "this is what civilians do." Does it matter?

* * *

Wyatt spends the next day (and the sleepless night before) giving Lucy space and not calling her. It's exhausting. Could she bear the weight of his love if he offered it or would it be to heavy for her to carry?

The day after he goes to Mason's. Is he becoming paranoid from lack of sleep or was the staff at his gym giving him knowing looks of "Here again a second time today, just eager to work out or problems in the romance department?" yesterday. Never mind, Mason's has work out facilities too.

Two hours in the gym don't make a difference.

Enough is enough he decides. Prepared to make a complete fool of himself and risk being transfered (If this backfires they can't work together and he's under no illusion who they'd replace.) he takes out and puts back his cell phone. This you do face to face.

Suddenly she is standing in front of him.

She holds up a hand to stop him while she catches her breath.

"I only ever do this when you're asleep," she says in response to the question on his face and runs her fingers down his cheek. "And you can bring me bagels every morning if you want to."

Her fingers are just as soft against his face as when he pretends to be asleep. He feels his muscles pull into a smile at her words.

It feels like he's in one of the films he watched the day before yesterday. (Yes, he went all out and had ice cream too.) He was afraid that if he had bourbon he do something stupid like calling Rufus. Or her.

He doesn't even take the time to pull on his jacket. He just grabs it and and leaves Mason's with it in his hand and her hand in the other.

Now that he knows what it is like to walk down the street with her hand in his he decides to be brave in response to Lucy's admission. He kisses her on a busy street corner for anyone to see. No stage play, not a different decade, no musty vintage clothes. Just them in the present time.

* * *

His thumb strokes her palm when Lucy hesitates when they walk up to Rufus and Jiya's table.

"It'll be fine, they're our friends."

"You're dead if you leave me alone with them."

Jiya won't stop talking about how obvious Lucy and Wyatt have been. On one level Jiya's perceptiveness is impressive. On another level it's kind of embarrassing how clueless they both have been.

Wyatt rolls his eyes when he hears about the bagel as a giveaway. Another thing Lucy and Rufus can tease him about in addition to his non-sober first time jump.

It gets even more embarrassing when Jiya happily announces "You could even tell that you were sleeping together."

Rufus almost chokes on his beer. "Boundaries, Jiya, we talked about this," he manages.

"You talked about us?!" Wyatt cuts in.

"But how?" Lucy splutters. "We were so careful..."

"Let's keep the details to ourselves people," Rufus implores.

"But how?" Lucy can't help asking again.

Jiya smiles knowingly. "The hand on the back."

"The what?" Wyatt frowns.

"Your hand on Lucy's back. It moved to way too low for someone who's just a friend," Jiya smiles looking very pleased with herself.

"It's a thing, dude," Rufus shrugs when Wyatt turns to him with a "Really?!"-expression.

But mostly he turns to Lucy. He can't help kissing her when they all get up to leave and he can't help smiling when Rufus grumbles "You are so not doing that when we're in another century or decade."

"We already did," Lucy tells him. "But is was strictly work-related and it was over eight decades ago."

"New rule then. And there's absolutely no kissing allowed in the Lifeboat. I'll leave you both behind in the 1700s if you do."

Lucy stops Wyatt with a hand on his arm when Rufus and Jiya have stepped out into the street ahead of them.

"At least that's what I told myself. That it was just and act, I mean."

Wyatt stills at her serious tone and reaches out to loosen some strands of hair that have caught under her scarf

"I know what you mean. I did too. Didn't manage to convince myself though."

Rufus opens the door to the bar. "Sorry to interrupt your moment, but Agent Christopher just called. Time to go to work."

Wyatt smiles, leans into Lucy and whispers "We should check that our smallpox vaccinations are up-to-date, just to be safe. I can't guarantee that I won't slip and if Rufus catches us we'll be stuck in history."

FIN

Thank you for reading and thank you for the reviews on chapters 1 & 2\. As anyone writing will tell you, it makes all the difference. A special thank you to the guest/anonymous reviewers, your comments are just as appreciated even if I can't respond to you directly.


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